


Saving Face

by ddagent



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9336455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Bernie and Serena are out for dinner when a chance encounter puts Bernie on edge. Enter Serena Campbell, Bernie’s girlfriend. Sequel to ‘Make Believe’.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this story got away from me. It was supposed to be a cute ficlet with more fake relationship goodness. But then *feelings* got involved. Thank you to everyone who was so positive about 'Make Believe', I really hope you enjoy the follow up!

The restaurant was small; hidden between a second hand bookshop and a local art gallery. Serena had first spotted it during a quick trip to the Post Office, and had made a mental note to bring Edward there during their recent… _reconnection._ But Edward had been _Edward,_ and Serena had let the post-it with the restaurant telephone number languish untouched in her office drawer. She hadn’t given the place a second thought until Bernie had suggested they get a bite to eat. It had been a long shift, both of them spending most of it in theatre. Returning to an empty house had not been an appealing prospect.

So here they were. Italian restaurant, almost romantic lighting. A small table by the window. Bernie took the chair with a view of the entrance, an act not lost on Serena.

“I didn’t even know this place existed,” Bernie said, peeling off her scarf and coat. “Great find.”

“Thank you. I-“

Whatever Serena was about to say was quickly cut short when she turned to look at Bernie. All day long, Bernie had been wearing scrubs. Now she was in a simple button-down, dark blue and falling over her lithe frame. Serena tried to focus on the buttons of her own coat, and not on the three open ones at Bernie’s throat. She rather thought it unfair that Bernie could achieve so much with so little. She also thought she should sit down and stop staring so hard at her friend.

Quickly tugging off her coat, Serena picked up the fallen thread of conversation. “You know, I’ve wanted to try this place for some time. I even thought about bringing Edward here.” Her smile was thin, pained. “Rather glad I didn’t.”

Across the table, Bernie winced. “How _is_ the Edward situation?”

“He’s still showing up at work. Always with a different bouquet of flowers. I rather think he’s bought the entire _Sainsbury’s_ range by now.”

Her ex-husband, after ruining his own career and nearly dragging her down with him, was attempting to woo her back. He waited, every day after work, with a different bouquet of flowers and the same old spiel that Serena had been listening to for over twenty-five years. He called her at the office, at home. He’d even crossed the line and asked _Elinor_ to have a word on his behalf. Serena had tried to dissuade him; even pretended to be involved in a relationship. She’d practically _begged_ Bernie to kiss her in the middle of the hospital car park just to keep up the pretence. But it hadn’t worked. If anything, Edward was even more relentless.

Serena stared out the window, half expecting to see Edward’s garish mug through the glass. “At least he hasn’t come to the house.”

“If he does, _call me_.” Bernie’s shoulders were fixed in a straight line, her jaw locked. “If he scares you, Serena, I can make sure he’ll never bother you again.”

She scoffed, trying desperately to ignore the part of her that relished Bernie going head-to-head with Edward. “He’s a cheat and a drunk, but violent he is _not._ I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you.”

“ _Of course._ But I...I think I have the _edge_ in that department.”

Leaning back in her chair, that scoff turned to a smirk. “ _I see_. Big macho army medic, protecting Holby’s shrinking violets. You’ll catch me if I swoon, won’t you?”

Bernie barked, her laugh and smile filling the space around her. “Something like that. But I do believe it is the prerogative of the fake girlfriend to protect her girl from her _wanker_ of an ex.”

Serena coughed, her cheeks betraying her blushes. In the days since their kiss, neither woman had mentioned their encounter in Holby car park. Bernie had been business as usual, and Serena had spent every opportunity she could avoiding the trauma surgeon. Until today. “I am _eternally_ sorry about that. I-“

“You don’t need to apologise,” Bernie said, interrupting what had been a carefully planned apology. “I was just glad to be of assistance. I only wish Edward wasn’t still bothering you.”

Edward would lose interest in time. He would realise that chasing after her was too much hassle and he would quickly find some alternative company. Someone blonde, someone with two brain cells to rub together and not much more. Someone who wouldn’t mind the alcohol on his breath; the heaving weight of his body atop hers in bed. She, in turn, would also find someone else. Someone who challenged her, someone who made her feel more than something scraped off the bottom of their shoe. Someone who was at least capable of finding her clit without an A to Z.

Perhaps she was too old for all that. At least she had Bernie. Over the past few days, Serena had been given a stark reminder just how lonely Holby had been before Bernie’s arrival. “Anyway, enough talk about _Edward._ Let’s talk about the other man ruining my life.”

“Oh, the Guy Self bashing is starting early.” Bernie grinned. “I think we need a bottle first.”

They were quickly set up with an expensive Italian Shiraz that Serena had wanted to try for ages _._ The waiter then took their order (the lobster tortelli for her, the spaghetti bolognaise for Bernie) and quickly left them to their conversation. They were still dissecting Guy Self’s reign of terror when their food arrived. Every mouthful was alternated with a sip of wine, a laugh, a smile. Feeling the tension, the awkwardness, fall from her shoulders, Serena realised how much she had needed an evening out with Bernie. She hoped it was the first of many.

With an empty plate now in front of her, Serena leant back in her chair and _beamed._ “Dessert?”

“Oh go on then. And another bottle, I’m working the night shift tomorrow.”

Grinning, Serena lifted the wine from and drained it equally between both their glasses. Their knees bumped under the table, feet brushing against each other. Serena busied herself with the stem of her wine glass lest she examine the jolt she felt at that simple contact. Across the table, Bernie was smiling warmly at Serena. Her eyes then darted away for the first time that night. “Oh _shit._ ”

“Problem?”

Serena had rather been enjoying their little bubble of good food and good wine. She felt her heart sink when Bernie nodded. “Marcus’ sister. _Shit._ ”

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem. She probably won’t even see you. Even if she _does,_ I highly doubt she’ll come over.”

Despite her many reassurances, Serena knew they were falling on deaf ears. Bernie’s gaze had shifted from their table into the dim light of the restaurant, seeking out her former sister-in-law. When Serena tried to avoid someone at a restaurant, she ducked out to the loos or hid behind her menu. Or, in the case of the hospital, used the stairs and got her coffee from the break room. But not Bernie. Not _awkward,_ adorable Bernie. She stared, her entire body from her jaw to her fingertips clenched in anticipation of a confrontation.

“ _Shit._ She’s coming over.”

“Well if you _would_ stare at her.” Serena resisted the urge to roll her eyes; instead she took another sip of wine. “I still don’t understand what the big deal is. You said Marcus is doing fine.”

“Oh he’s _perfect._ Dating some nurse from St. James’. Juliet will want to see how _I’m_ doing. She’ll tell Marcus all about it. She always does.”

 _That,_ Serena could understand _._ Saving face was important to Bernie, as it was to her. That was half the reason she had asked Bernie to kiss her in that car park, to show Edward that he hadn’t ruined her, that someone _did_ find her attractive. As for Bernie, she was doing fine. Perhaps not a perfect post-separation picture. Her children still refused to talk to her. Serena had caught her sleeping in the on-call room down on AAU more often than not ( _the futon back at my flat is terrible,_ was the constant, half-muttered excuse). Then there was her appearance. Her blonde curls looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards and there was a stray thread unravelling at the cuff of Bernie’s shirt. Awkward. _Adorable._

“I hate the thought of his _smug_ face. It’s bad enough he knows the kids aren’t talking to me…”

“ _Bernie_.” Another stupid, _insane_ idea crossed her mind. Downing her glass of wine for Dutch courage, Serena reached out and snagged Bernie’s hand. She ran her fingertips across the inside of her wrist, helping to uncurl those fingers. She kept up her soothing touch until Bernie’s gaze had returned to her. “ _Bernie._ Everything will be _fine._ Your former sister-in-law will have nothing to say. After all, you happen to be on a date with a very intelligent, very _beautiful_ surgeon.”

Bernie’s mouth gaped open like a goldfish. “Serena, I _couldn’t_.”

“Yes, you can.” She grinned; feeling her stomach twist as Bernie’s fingers suddenly gripped hers. This was a foolish idea. _Foolish._ “Consider it a favour returned.”

Marcus’ sister finally reached their table. The family resemblance was obvious: the same dark hair, the same hawkish eyes. Although Serena had only met Marcus the once, she recognised that Juliet’s eyes were much colder. Especially when staring at Bernie Wolfe. Serena felt Bernie wilt under her gaze, felt her fingers stiffen. Serena held their grip, her other hand slipping under the table to pat Bernie’s thigh. _You’ll be okay. I’ve got you._

“Bernie. It’s been a while.”

“Juliet. You’re looking well.”

“And you’re looking…” Her dark eyes roamed over Bernie’s appearance. Serena could almost see her swallow down snide comments about the hair, the shirt, the circles under her eyes. “You’re looking well too.” She spotted their joint hands, and her pinched face quickly blanched. “You’re on a date.”

“Yes,” Bernie said, with all the confidence and swagger Serena so associated with Doctor Wolfe. “This is Serena, my girlfriend.”

 _Girlfriend._ Serena tried to ignore the way her stomach lurched at that word. She tried to put aside the butterflies in her stomach at the bright look Bernie threw her way. She rattled off an excuse to herself - _it’s the wine_ – and got back to the task at hand. She was Bernie Wolfe’s _girlfriend,_ and she needed to act the part. She was all prepared to smile and simper and talk Bernie up. But she wasn’t given the chance.

“ _Girlfriend._ ” Serena didn’t care for the way Juliet said the word. It made her feel dirty, _wrong_ somehow. She couldn’t imagine how it made Bernie feel. “You’ve barely been separated two months from my brother and you’re _dating_? I shouldn’t be surprised. You were seeing someone when you were _married._ What’s a cooling off period to _you_?”

“Juliet-“

“I think you should leave.” Serena fixed Juliet with a stare; a stare that had had many junior doctors and even consultants wither before her. “I think you should leave _now._ ”

Juliet pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth; another tirade already prepared. But between Serena’s gaze, and the couple sitting beside them turning around to watch, she realised she was making a scene. Throwing Bernie a scowl, Juliet turned heel and retreated back to her table.

When she was safely across the other side of the restaurant, Serena turned her attention back to Bernie. Her knuckles were bone white, her fingertips pressing red welts into Serena’s skin.

“It’s such a mess; everything is _such a mess._ ” Bernie closed her eyes, pulling her hand away to wrap around her torso. “I’m sorry, Serena, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me, Bernie. _Yes,_ you could have handled things differently. But you tried to make your marriage work. It was more than Edward ever did.” After Bernie’s affair came to light, in Keller Ward of all places, Serena had hated her for all of a day. But she had quickly realised that Bernie and Edward were nothing alike. Edward’s affairs had been borne out of selfishness, of greed. Bernie’s had been out of a desperation to be happy. Not that she ever had been. “Blood’s already in the water. All you can do is bury the body and move on.”

Bernie snorted, finally smiling even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I guess you’re right. I think we should leave, though. Thank-thank you for a lovely evening, Serena. I’m sorry I ruined it.”

“ _Bernie_.” It really _had_ been a lovely evening. Then that woman had shown up, making Bernie feel like garbage; like something nasty on the bottom of her shoe. _Like how Edward had made her feel._ Even now, Bernie was hunched over in her chair; fingers clenched around her bicep. _Unacceptable._ “We’re not leaving. We’re having dessert.”

“Serena…”

“ _We’re staying._ ” Serena perused the desserts menu. “You should listen to your pretend girlfriend, Bernie.”

The trauma surgeon gave up, thankfully leaning back from her hunched position as she surrendered. “If you’re sure. But we’re _definitely_ ordering another a bottle of wine.”

Serena grinned. “Oh _absolutely._ ”  

She wanted to return to the part of the evening that had them laughing and smiling, not the part that had rendered Bernie mute and broken. When the waiter returned, Serena ordered them both dessert and another bottle of wine. They’d feel it tomorrow, but it would be worth it. Serena would stay into the early hours and open a third bottle if it made Bernie feel better. Dessert arrived quickly; Serena tucking into her stack of chocolate profiteroles. Bernie, thankfully, began wolfing down her gelato.

“What flavours did you ask for again?” Serena knew, Serena remembered _._ But she just wanted to get Bernie talking.

“Pistachio and espresso,” Bernie said. “The espresso has a bit of a kick. Want to try?”

She offered Serena the bowl. Sliding her spoon into Bernie’s dessert, Serena came away with a small spoonful. The coffee taste hit her in the back of the throat. “I certainly wouldn’t mind having a scoop of that to start my day. Would you like to try some of mine?”

Bernie nodded, waiting until Serena had moved her plate closer before she took a small crumb of choux pastry. “It’s good.”

“Take a _proper_ bite.” Rolling her eyes at her friend, Serena dumped a whole profiterole into Bernie’s bowl. “Honestly, it’s no wonder you’re all skin and bones.”

Serena busied herself with her glass of wine as she waited for her to try the dessert. Bernie took a tentative spoonful, breaking the pastry to get to the hazelnut gelato inside. Serena felt unable to stop herself from watching Bernie: watching her lips as the spoon slid between them; watching her tongue as it caught the chocolate ganache in the corner of her mouth. Her stomach churned, Serena now unable to eat as she recalled how those lips had felt against her own. _What would it feel like to have that tongue swipe against her mouth? Or other places…_

“Serena, are you alright?”

“Fine.” She took a long gulp of her wine. “My eyes, it seems, were bigger than my stomach. You can finish mine, if you’d like.”

Whilst Bernie finished both their desserts, Serena took the opportunity to catalogue how she was feeling. There was the pull in her stomach as she watched Bernie smile in her direction; the slight tingle across her mouth as she replayed their brief kiss in the car park. An ache she so desperately wanted to ignore at the sight of Bernie’s tongue lapping ice cream from her bottom lip. With her feelings catalogued, it was now time for a diagnosis. _Stress,_ no doubt brought on by Edward and Guy Self. _Wine,_ self-inflicted but an important factor nevertheless. She had _never_ been attracted to another woman before. Surely if she was that way inclined she would have felt that way before Bernie Wolfe had come waltzing into her life.

“I’m glad we stayed,” Bernie said suddenly. “Even if I’m going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow.”

“Good thing we’re doctors and know _exactly_ what cures a good hangover.”

Bernie smirked. “Two painkillers, two pints of water, two sides of fried bread with a fry up.”

Serena laughed. She tried to imagine Bernie cooking a fry up in that pokey flat of hers, smoke detector already out as the fat from the bacon hit the grill. “Remind me to make you my hangover cure sometime. Cures _all_ ills. Might even cure the common cold.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The tension in Bernie’s shoulders had finally eased. “I’ll get the bill. Least I can do, after putting you through the mess of pretending to be my girlfriend.”

She waved Bernie off. “I’ve got it. It really should be me thanking you after all. Kissing me was certainly more of a hardship than me holding your hand.”

“So, what, does that mean I’ll have to take you out to coffee to say thank you?”

Coffee sounded good. Not Pulses, somewhere else. Maybe the Starbucks by Marks and Spencer, or the Costa Coffee right by Waterstones. Somewhere without prying eyes. Somewhere just _them._ “How about Thursday? I finish just after lunch.”

“It’s a date.”

Serena drained her wine glass, _anything_ to mask the jolt in her stomach as Bernie said the word _date._ Before she could do anything further to embarrass herself, Serena quickly hailed their waiter and asked for the bill. She paid, left a sizeable tip, and then both of them shrugged on coats and scarves as they headed for the cold streets of Holby. It wasn’t until they were outside, a cold wind nearly knocking them both over, that Serena realised how much she had enjoyed the warm atmosphere of the restaurant. At least she still had the company.

“I’ll call for a taxi; they can drop you off first, then me.”

Serena nodded, watching as Bernie dialled the number. Neither of them was in a fit state to drive, but the evening had been worth it. But as Bernie finished up her call to _Holby Cars,_ Serena noticed Juliet and her husband making their departure from the restaurant. Feeling the effects of two bottles of wine, and the start of a lifelong grudge against Bernie’s former sister-in-law, Serena did something reckless.

She kissed Bernie.

Hands, red from the cold, pulled at the lapels of Bernie’s coat. Serena didn’t even wait for Bernie to properly hang up her call before she was pressing her lips insistently against hers. Serena felt that pull in her stomach tighten, felt that ache begin to _throb._ She let out a moan as Bernie’s hand brushed the nape of her neck, threading through her hair. The other pressed against her hip, holding her in place. Although she had kissed Bernie first, the Major quickly took control. Kiss after kiss, both unwilling to stop.

A car door slamming shut, and the gunning of an engine, was enough to break their new bubble. Bernie stayed close, her hand still pressed against Serena’s neck. “I think I owe you dinner after all. I can just imagine Marcus’ face when Juliet tells him she caught me snogging Serena Campbell.”

“Oh to be a fly on the wall.” Serena dropped her grip from Bernie’s coat, turning away to face the road. “I hope you didn’t mind the initiative. Seemed like a good idea in the moment.”

 _A foolish idea._ Just like their kiss in the car park. “It was perfect. If I ever need a fake girlfriend again, you’ll be my first port of call.”

“Happy to help.”

A taxi quickly pulled up to the kerb. Bernie told the driver Serena’s address, followed by her own. She even opened the door so Serena could slip in first. As they drove away from the restaurant, Serena found herself acutely aware of Bernie’s body so near to hers. Hopefully, in the cold light of day, she could examine her symptoms and find a better diagnosis. But, without a clearer head, Serena could only come to one conclusion: she had a crush on Bernie Wolfe.

Was there even a cure for that?


End file.
